


A bit of fun

by itsmeganonthemoon



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Original everything, Short Stories, edited free writing, like usually under 500 words short, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:52:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmeganonthemoon/pseuds/itsmeganonthemoon
Summary: I'm part of a creative writing group, and I wanted to post the stories I complete somewhere, so I chose here. No fandoms, no overarching plot, no familiarity. Just my mad ramblings. Also, I'm trying a lot of different genres and styles so if you don't like one, try reading another and see if you like it. Enjoy :)





	1. A Stone's Throw

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Fantastical

The moon dances on the surface of the lake. I throw another stone - it bounces on the water three times. I can never get it past three.

I wipe the newly formed tears on my sleeve. I never get anything right.

Great, now there’s mascara on my nice white dress. Mum’s gonna have a go at me again.

I throw another stone - _skit, skit, skit, plop_. Three times. Useless.

Then I see it.

Where the stone fell into the water, a bright light emanates. Not the moon this time.

I can’t see it very clearly because of the tears still welling in my eyes, but I know it’s there.

From the light, a woman emerges and grows. She stands about 10 feet tall, wearing an outfit similar to the Grim Reaper’s, but white. And instead of a scythe, she’s holding a handful of flat, glistening stones.

The stones I threw.

Carefully, she lifts the stones above her head and then –


	2. Assimilation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Horror (zombies)  
> Warning: Mild gore

A bullet passes by near me.

I feel the wave of air pass by immediately, then it stills. I duck behind the nearest form of shelter - my friend, fallen. I think she must be dead, lying there in a pool of her own blood not moving, even to breathe. She must have been shot in the heat.

So I lay down beside her. I reload my gun. Three bullets left. That’s not enough to kill even a quarter of these people.

No, I have to remember that they’re not people.

I feel the pool of blood start to ripple beneath me as my friend begins to move, convulse, even. Oh _God._

Those _things_ must have gotten to her. But how? They’re at least a hundred metres away and not exactly sneaky.

Unless…

I look down. She’s awake, but not. She’s one of them.

I try to run but she grabs my arm, her fingernails digging into my skin, feeling as though they might draw blood.

A tear rolls down my cheek as I look into the eyes of what used to be my friend. She used to have such beautiful eyes.

The tears blur my vision and burn hot in my tear ducts.

Then it happens.

I feel a sharp pain and then nothing, as the bullet tears through my flesh. And now I can feel it coursing through my veins. The need to destroy, to assimilate.

To make all humans one of _us._


	3. Resistance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Romance.

No regrets. Absolutely no regrets.

I pull away from him and we both grin at each other.

“I’m sorry.” I say, lying.

“What have you got to be sorry for?” He grins at me. Or continues grinning at me. I giggle.

Dear God, I love him. I must, because I don’t do giggling. It’s ridiculous and embarrassing.

To be honest, I don’t normally do love, either. Feelings are gross and I generally try to avoid them at all costs.

But with him, I just can’t.

He’s gorgeous and adorable and whenever I see him I just want to marry him right there on the spot. I’ve never been the type for marriage before either.

Also, he’s a great kisser (today I learned…).

Obviously, it wasn’t everything I’d hoped it would be - kissing seldom is - but it was perfect. More than perfect, even, and that doesn’t exist.

Look at me, I’m becoming sassy. Come on, pull yourself together.

“You’re right. You should be apologising to _me_. Don’t you know it’s assault to kiss someone without their consent?” I say. 

Deflection: the perfect way to prove you don’t have emotions.

“Well, if that’s how you feel about me, I guess I’ll leave.”

“Well… maybe I won’t let you.” I hold his hands and kiss him again. And it’s even better. And we keep kissing. And dear _God_ do I love him.


	4. Teabags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genre: Comedy

“Why shouldn’t they help themselves after the way they’ve been treated?” She had the nerve to say to me.

I got that they’d had it tough, but that’s no reason to start rummaging through cupboards, shoving every last morsel of food they can find into their fat little mouths.

My lips formed a hard line as I try to hold back a sigh of frustration.

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t be hospitable, I’m just not comfortable with them wrecking our cupboards to get stuff for themselves.” I whispered harshly.

“Look at them.” She said dismissively, “They’re not breaking anything. They’re not even moving things from their places.”

I did look, and to my horror, I saw them tearing tea bags at their corners before pouring them into their mouths. They even toasted them like shots. When the two teenage boys realised how disgusting that was, they abandoned the affair entirely and left the tin on the countertop. Then they opened the snacks cupboard and somehow managed to eat the remainders of a multipack of crisps in the space of roughly 12.37 seconds.

It was then that I decided to intervene.

“Woah, slow down.” They both looked up at me, mouths full, having completely ceased chewing, “If you eat too much at once you might be sick, and won’t that be a waste of food?”

They looked at each other, then at me, and shrugged.

“Yes.” I eventually answered for them, “Just… sit down and we can discuss whether you want to rent the house while Margaret makes tea.”

She picks up some teabags from the tin and puts them in four mugs.

“Ohh, that’s what those are for…”


	5. Poetry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll lump 'em all together. There's not much anyway.
> 
> Warnings: sensitive readers may not want to read poem 2

\-- 1 --

Where horses run and disappear  
And hide below, not out of fear,  
But out of love for what's beneath.  
Their aquamarine blades unsheath

And cut across the soft blue sky,  
Yet even then they wonder why  
The diamond light shines in the sun  
And shimmers across everyone.

For under there, where they once were  
The light only goes down so far.  
These horses dissipate at touch;  
Indeed, they never can see much,

And what's below's a mystery.  
That great unknown, behold the sea!

\-- 2 --

The river black and dead as night;  
I hold your hands, shaking in fright,  
And peak over that rusted rail  
While thrashed by that twixt rain and hail.

I see you shiver, overcome  
By what could never be undone,  
But I am here and this you know:  
That even as we overthrow

The bounds of life and death and love,  
There is no greater feat than that  
of what we are about to do -  
Just you and me, and me and you.

So come with me and take the fall,  
And I'll be with you through it all.

\-- 3 --

Encapsulate me  
Engulf me  
Make me your prey  
Make me your everything  
Teach me to be  
With and without you  
Give me your everything  
Let no one else  
Stand in your way  
Except for me  
I'll be your everything  
We'll be  
Everything


	6. Monologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genre: freeform (literally just writing down my thoughts. Maybe I should invest in a diary...)

There are so many things I want to talk to you about, but you wouldn’t understand any of it. None of it would be coherent, because they’re my thoughts, and I can never express my thoughts coherently through words. Maybe if I drew them, or danced them, or hummed them. Maybe then they would make sense, but still probably only to me.

I just feel like nothing in our lives is under our control. Not what you want, not who you love, not who you meet. You can never _make_ that stuff happen, it happens because the rest of the universe decided it should. And who are you to argue with what the universe decides?

But that’s unimportant. What matters is what you _do_. Even if what you do isn’t entirely under your control.

I want to love, but love has been ruined for me by a comedian called Daniel Sloss, and I respect him for it.

Everything in your life fits into that jigsaw puzzle of pieces of various shapes and sizes, and other people make the biggest pieces - they fill the biggest holes. And there, in the middle, is the most important hole of all. Your “soulmate”. Or “true love”. Or whatever you want to call it. There’s no real way of describing it other than “bullshit” because I know that hole will never be filled for me. My jigsaw will be incomplete forever, either because everyone that seems the right shape thinks I’m the wrong shape, or because I jam someone in there who we both know doesn’t fit, and waste years of my life pretending my jigsaw is supposed to have that other picture in the middle. Or because I don’t allow myself to think of anyone as my jigsaw piece because I know for a fact they won’t be.

And that’s why I know I’ll never find love. Not real love.

Also because I’m a shit.


End file.
